#Feb boys

[buglyknight]

1143) starlight coffers

January passes through the quiet frigid

River wanders lazy, you didn't want to visit

Headstone stands like an obelisk

Heart sweats blood of obsidian

Tear the layers off of my skin

Construct for you endless monuments

Build a shape for every day left frozen

You'll see them in your wake, now I'm formless

What became of the fifteen hour days

Working tirelessly until you bothered to glance my way

Sprinting towards that gazebo charade

You tossed my question back as if I didn't pray

Your slobber dripping down my throat, I'm prey

Let me force the stars into crystalline coffers

Like the silver lockbox I still keep all your gifts in

I'll steal every constellation to see you grinning

Reflected in your eyes, their twinkling

Open wide and peer upon the night sky

I'm sure they breathe for you, don't ask why

The angels sewed the petals on the flowers

Glued wings onto honey bees

Crafted feathers to pin to birds

Made their song to reach you from the trees

Combined butter with the unwanted fly

Put them in your laugh and smile

The patter of rain on clouded days

The sun and sky, your eyes their shade

They built a world just for your hands

To touch the bark and sift through sands

To see the rolling world of Iceland

Tuned the rhythm of Earth to be your band

The taste of eggplant parmesan

Coldstone cake batter

The day at dawn

The blue of babies and pink's of periwinkle

Made until your face is wrinkled

I know it must be all for you

I'd destroy it all if you asked me to

Churn it all into ambrosial stew

Drink it down, It's what you're due

[farharbour]

fallout 4: new vegas - more vault boy animations

[actualsunflower]

make sure you use your head lights in bad weather 🐲✈️💣

[blinkandyoumissit]

15 FEB 2018 | SiriusXM • Everybody knows that @/falloutboy's song #Centuries samples @/suzyv's song Tom's Diner (right?) but do YOU know @/petewentz's birthdate? 🤔 Prove your stan status by acing this #falloutboy trivia!

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

no like really even without the timeline context of when it leaked Hand of God is so incredibly messed up like???? FOB's always been good at public indictments of the way they've been treated, that's like, a significant amount of their discography especially prehiatus and ESPECIALLY Cork Tree which does it very bitterly and sardonically but Hand of God feels like it takes it a step farther with "which is it, the boy who writes the songs or the boy who's in them?" because like YES there is more than one way to interpret that and I'm cool with that but it's doing a massive disservice to FOB and to Pete's writing to skim over the point within the larger whole of the song that they are one and the same. the boy who writes the songs IS the one who's in them, that's been true for most of Fall Out Boy's career. they're SUPER vulnerable in their songwriting, even when it's sarcastic and tongue in cheek, there's always a piece of truth in it. they wrote an entire fricking song about Pete's suicide attempt. the boy who writes the songs has always been the one who's in them, this isn't mutually exclusive. and Hand of God is IMMENSELY self-referential. it's literally Pete writing about himself. "who's the girl, is this truth, or is he writing fiction?" were all questions asked repeatedly on their forums and in Q&As with Pete.

"I am the worst liar I know" coming from the song that is possibly the most raw, honest draft or demo from Cork Tree — which also contains lyrics such as "we're only liars, but we're the best" (tongue in cheek turnaround of criticisms against the band) and "you only hold me up like this because you don't know who I really am" and "if you say this makes you happy then I'm not the only one lying" and "it's just a matter of time until we're all found out" and "I'll keep singing this lie if you keep believing it" (in a song that was essentially the band's mission statement, for lack of a better term) and "the record won't stop skipping and the lies just won't stop slipping and besides my reputation's on the line" (in a song that Pete himself said was way too personal to play live and has also said was the first half of a story that Hum Hallelujah, which is explicitly about his suicide attempt, later completed) and "I went to sleep a poet and woke up a fraud" (Music or the Misery is on a different edition but the point still stands) and "I keep telling myself I'm not the desperate type" (in a song titled sarcastically after the medication Pete overdosed on) — is fricking insane. there's a completely unfiltered, untwisted-into-sarcasm honesty in Hand of God and even though it (rightfully, because it would have been Too Much) didn't make it onto the final album, it functions as as much of a thesis statement as Sophomore Slump does. it functions as as much of a confessional as Dark Alley. Hand of God is at the heart of Cork Tree, practically haunting it, and it isn't even on the album.

[clockworkreapers]

Cy def stole that cig from him. Sauron is not impressed

[gwekkuu]

No new autumn piece this year 😔

So let me share some old ones I still like :0

[benzgarfield]

djpchod IG update February 26, 2023

[andy-clutterbuck]

This Life | 2x16

[timmy-bee]

✦ WATCHERBOY

┈ a gender related to being a watcher & being a boy! ✧ req'd by no one — watchergirl

[rozerem]

technically still year of the rabbit hehe

[romance-rambles]

modern clarence | an appropriate staring distance

While at the beach, you take a moment to appreciate your handsome boyfriend while he's taking a nap—and also when he's not.

1.2k, fluff + established relationship, reader is mc, series: none

NAVY BLUE STICKS OUT TO you the moment you open your eyes.

Your aching shoulder protests your decision to stay as you are, on your side, facing a still sleeping Clarence. Like this, he looks much younger—you're reminded of the time you had to force him to take a nap. Like this, he's simply the cute guy you managed to score not one but multiple dates with, just Clarence, instead of the incredibly smart and wonderful and kind Student Council President.

You glance at the circular table set between your two beach chairs, taking note of his glasses resting primly upon its surface. With him often having to juggle two different kinds of glasses, you'd offered to put them in your bag so that he could pack lighter. Or, as light as he can.

Right now, it's awkwardly squished behind you, miraculously still on the chair only because it's too big to fall out the gap under the armrest.

Filling in the blanks comes as easily to you as the smile on your face when you get to see your boyfriend, nearly the same one on your face right now—and the expression that goes with it is so endlessly fond that you find yourself with the urge to hit something.

Simply put, your boyfriend is a handsome man—the most handsome one, of all the men your keen eyes have gazed upon. And gazed, they certainly have. But even if they didn't have to pick, then they would gaze at only Clarence for the rest of their life..

You almost giggle at the thought, but think against it at the last minute.

But pressing your lips firmly into a thin line has the opposite effect on your budding smile. You imagine you look rather strange to anyone who passes by—what with your mockery of a wide smile and the silent scream building up in your throat, paired with the quiet thumping of your feet against the legrest.

If you were in a more private space, you would resort to kicking instead.

A proper squish to your still warm cheeks as you begin to sit up helps ease up the passion swirling chaotically across your body. You exhale, then allow your hands to slide off your face. One side of it bears the consequences of your actions more than the other.

With a one last longing at the sleeping Clarence, you start to dig through your bag for the only thing in your arsenal that could substitute for a sketchbook.

There are a few miscellaneous promotion emails waiting for you on the lockscreen. A message from Cael asking about dinner tomorrow too. Somewhere between them, there's a notice about the weather, with the temperature from an almost hour ago listed uselessly.

You swipe past them all and hurriedly slip into the camera app.

The hand holding your phone steadies itself against the armrest as you swing your legs over the edge of your chair. A thumb hovers over the capture button, vigilantly awaiting your command. The fingers of your other hand, meanwhile, busy themselves with zooming in on the captivating scenery.

With each pinch, the focus grows ever narrow—until all that remains is Clarence and nothing else.

At one point, you try to zoom into the mole under his eye, but it doesn't make for a very compelling photo. After a few attempts, quite a few of which involve staring at your screen for prolonged periods of time, you reluctantly give up.

Your pout is soon covered up by your phone. When its front camera presses against your upper lip, your gaze is free to wander back to the sleeping beauty beside you once more.

A healing effect, exclusive to him, takes hold of you instantaneously.

Eyes brimming with fondness narrow slightly. You slide off your beach chair, hands on your bent knees as you take a closer look. You can make out the shadows cast by his long lashes and the drool dribbling past his chin.

He's perfect.

You're content to stay there until your knees begin to ache, reminding you insistently that this isn't a very comfortable position to be in. As a compromise of some kind, you adjust your arms atop the nearby armrest.

It really would be better if you'd brought your sketchbook along—but, you think, remembering his workaholic tendencies, would he even bother to take a nap then?

You scrunch your nose up at the thought.

In that moment, Clarence seems sense to your presence. When you look back at him, you're greeted with the sight of confusion in his now opened, but still drowsy gaze. He blinks, and it earns him an amused grin from you.

"Morning," you say, though it's well into afternoon.

That seems to wake him up. His cheeks flush a warm pink, and he hurriedly wipes away the drool on his face, as though you haven't already committed the sight to your memory.

Clearing his throat, he responds in kind, careful to sit up in such a way that he avoids looking at you.

"You don't have to be so close...I can see you just fine."

You laugh, not unkindly. "What if I'm the one who's having trouble?"

For a moment, when he turns back to look at you, he looks alarmed. Then, his shoulders relax to the tune of a sigh, his groggy mind apparently having caught onto the fact that you were joking.

Without breaking eye contact, you reach for his glasses. But as with the issue of walking into a cave without a flashlight, even if you vaguely recall where your destination is, there's no guarantee you'll actually reach it.

"Give me a second," you mutter, your annoyance making your tone a bit too sharp.

You follow your words up with an apology. His glasses held are carefully by the frames as your sheepish gaze connects with his faintly amused one. Clarence reaches out, getting as far as grasping the slanted tips of the frame before the two of you reach a mutual agreement.

"Well." His cheeks return to being a rosy hue. He coughs politely. "If you would."

Cute. Biting your lip giddily, you shake his grip off. A quick once-over of your surroundings before you stand up shows that no one seems to be paying attention to you. And unless your friends and acquaintences have come to together to unlock the secrets of invisibility, no one you know seems to be present either.

Leaning over, you line his glasses up against his face, the tips of his frame brushing against his cheek. It takes only a moment to slot them into place—and you have enough experience with doing so that they don't snag against his ears.

It takes only a moment longer to give him an innocent peck on the lips.

"There," you murmur, not entirely satisfied with the kiss.

His Adam's apple bobs. Clarence adjusts his glasses with an awkward look that suggests he has some kind of solution to your dilemma. You, of course, beat him to the punch.

"Why—" Your voice cracks a little. "—don't we go find a different spot?"

He smiles, narrowed eyes watching you fondly. "I was about to suggest the same thing."

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

The Cure - Three Imaginary Boys

[blinkandyoumissit]

10 FEB 2013 | KiSS 92.5 • Fall Out Boy | Backstage at the 55th Grammys

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

[sn0wbat]

sparkle on, tiberius ✨